You've Got a Friend
by Bingo the Cat
Summary: We all know that when Bates was forced to leave with Vera, Anna became incredibly depressed. What if William tried his best to cheer her up, despite the fact that he was at war for a long time? One-shot, Anna/Bates angst and some furious headbanging from William, as well as Anna/William friendship.


**A/N:** What I write usually comes from either my music or stuff that's happened to me during my life; any story I write usually contains an unhealthy dose of romance, an ounce of angst, a sprinkle of family comfort, a teaspoon of Anna/Bates or Silver/Blaze (for my _Sonic_ writing), and a pinch of extremely dry humour, all mixed up in a large bowl of either _Downton Abbey_ or _Sonic the Hedgehog_.

…Okay, make that a soup can of Anna/Bates or Silver/Blaze.

I decided to write this when I read **JamesLuver's** story, "So Be It", which was all about how Vera felt when Bates returned to Downton and to his "little floozy", as Vera referred to Anna several times in the story-line. I decided to explore some Anna/William friendship, because (although it's not stated) during the time that Bates was being forced to live with Vera again, Anna and William got closer as friends, much like Anna and Branson became closer friends during Bates' absence. I hope you all enjoy this, and don't forget to leave a nice review in the review centre – no flames, please! And I apologise in advance for the length of the story - it is longer than my usual one-shots, because I want to start going into more detail in my stories.

* * *

"Anna?"

He unsurely, tentatively, stepped out into the freezing cold courtyard, and saw the young head housemaid perched on a crate nearby, shivering madly and – from a distance – William could hear that her teeth were chattering from the harsh, cold December night. He took slow steps towards her, worried as to what her reaction would be to his presence. Now that he had reached her, he could see the goose-bumps that had erupted up over her neck and hands, even as she tried to warm herself up by digging into her own embrace more.

Not wanting her to catch a cold or chill on his watch, he quickly slid his thick travelling coat from his shoulders – placed rather hastily due to the weather – and wrapped it around her, ignoring the way his body responded indignantly to the icy chill in the air. He sat down next to her, and ferociously rubbed his hands together to stop them and his arms from going numb. William looked at the older woman next to him, and felt complete sympathy, as well as underlying anger that Anna's fiancé could just leave her like he did, even if it wasn't his fault – or so Anna said. Somehow, he didn't really believe that. He had though Mr Bates was a good man, better than he had proved himself to be as of late by leaving Downton without an Earl's valet, and leaving Downton with a head housemaid who was nursing a broken heart. He shivered, too, until Anna's quiet voice from beside him caused the second footman to jump out of his skin.

"William? Can… can I tell you something I haven't told anyone else?"

The young man considered his answer. Certainly, he didn't want to hear anything that had made Anna feel upset, but if she could trust with him a secret about herself or her past that she couldn't confide in anyone else – even Mr Bates, William scoffed to himself – then he would listen. "Fire away, Anna."

Her eyes welled with tears, and he felt a jolt of horror – had he reminded her of her lover, her one and only, just in that moment with just that quote? But then he noticed that she had a massive smile on her face, and he relaxed once more. In a friendly manner, he slung an arm around her shoulder, to keep her warmer, and she rested her head on his chest. To anyone just passing by, they would think that the two were seeing each other; but to the other servants in the house, they would seem like two siblings, comforting each other after a long day of relentless work. He cocked his head curiously when she spoke up at last.

"You see, to most people, Mr Bates is just an Earl's valet with a severe injury and shouldn't be in service. But to me, he is more than just a valet, and more than just a man with an injury that should render him unemployable. I don't care about his injury, and I don't care that he's just a valet, not some greatly respected war hero – but what I do care about is that, whenever I'm with him, he makes me feel whole, as though my entire life, I've been running towards the light that emanates from him. Without him here, I…" and this is where she faltered. William gave a reassuring squeeze to her shoulders, and she sighed. "…I just feel so lost, so alone, like I've lost my only lantern in the ever surrounding darkness, and I wish to find my way out of this trouble – but to do that, I need him here. But he's gone," she added with a sob. William panicked, and pulled her right into his chest as she started to cry desperately. "He's gone, William, and he'll probably never come back! How am I supposed to continue with my broken heart?!"

* * *

Long after everyone had turned in for the night, William quietly snuck out of his room, down to the servants' hall with a piece of paper and a pen he had borrowed from Mrs Hughes – when she had asked why, he had replied vaguely that he wanted to write a letter to a friend; she had asked no more questions, and quietly dismissed him with his borrowed pen – and sat himself down in his normal seat. He shook the pen, to get it working and the ink running and flowing smoothly, and, putting it to the paper, started to write:

_Dear Mr Bates,_

_I don't know whether I should be happy, sorry, angry or sad, writing this letter to you, after what you did to Anna, leaving her here to nurse her broken heart back to its normal, tough self – I doubt she'll ever be the same, not after your leaving here rather quickly and ceremoniously – in a bad light – but there was something she said to me this evening, that I wondered if you knew about. It's been in my head all evening – as I write this letter, I am the only one sat in the servants' hall at this ungodly hour._

_I'm not sure whether to be amused or sympathetic when I lament over the fact that Anna has gone and stolen your pillowcase from your room, just so she can have that little piece of you with her when she cries herself to sleep each night. I know, and she knows, that in the end, your scent will fade away from the case and be replaced with her own, but she misses you terribly, and I don't blame her – you stuck up for me when no one else would. And now it seems that I repaying the favour in kind. I may not like you for what you did to her, and I may never forgive you for it, either, but I know that you should know that if you can come back eventually – despite what that witch of a wife tells you – know that I'll stick up for you against the others. Even Mrs Hughes refuses to talk about you at dinner, knowing how it will bring Anna to tears, even in front of everyone there._

_I guess, I'm writing because I want to tell you what Anna told me this evening. What she said to me was rather moving, and I think you should know that despite what you've done to her, she still holds you in high regards, still loves you the same as how she's always loved you. What she said was (quote unquote), "To me, he is more than just a valet, and more than just a man with an injury that should render him unemployable." She went on to say, "Without him here, I just feel so lost, so alone, like I've lost my only lantern in the ever surrounding darkness, and I wish to find my way out of this trouble – but to do that, I need him here. But he's gone." She started to cry at that point; panic-stricken, I did the only thing I knew would work with a crying woman – I pulled her into my embrace, and let her cry herself hoarse. She lamented to me, "He's gone, William, and he'll probably never come back! How am I supposed to continue with my broken heart?!"_

_Basically, I suppose I'm wondering – how do you react to this statement, and how do you think I should respond to it? It seems shocking that I'm asking you for advice, being as I'm still uncertain as to how I should treat you, but I need to know more about handling women. Because it's not just Anna that has me in a tither – it's Daisy, and I think you know that I like her as more than just a friend; I wouldn't go as far as to say I love her, but I feel that I'm close to that statement. If you can enlighten me as to how to go about things here, then that would be entirely respected, and I will gain all respect for you once more. Besides, you're more experienced in the matter of women than I am – I'm sure you can shed some useful advice!_

_Yours sincerely,_

_William Mason._

The second footman sighed, running a hand over his eyes, and started when he heard Mrs Patmore's surprised and worried voice.

"William? What in bleedin's name are you doing up at this hour?"

He looked up to the fearsome cook, who was looking at him with raised eyebrows and a slightly agape mouth. William put his pen down beside him unsurely, and asked quietly, "Mrs Patmore? Do you think this letter is too forward, or is it not forward enough?"

Mrs Patmore frowned, and took the letter to read over. Her eyes widened when she saw who it was addressed to, but continued to read. As she reached the end of the letter, she started to smile, and looked over the piece of paper at the footman. She had tears in her eyes as she stated to William:

"It's perfect. Mr Bates will be pleased to know you're trying to mend your bridges."

William smiled back at her, feeling very pleased with himself and his letter.

* * *

"Johnny?"

The former valet had to contain his displeasure and rage at his wife for using his old pet name – she only ever called him Johnny when she–

–No. He won't finish that thought.

John looked up at Vera, who was sneering as she held a letter out to him. "Take it. It's for you, anyway. But if it's from your little floozy, then I won't hesitate to throw it in the fire. You promised you wouldn't write to her."

His shoulders slumped, and he laughed sarcastically. "Vera, I've been here for nearly a year now, and yet I've not written a single letter, and if I had, I wouldn't be getting a reply this quickly." He looked back down at the envelope, and laughed again. "Anyway, this writing is too masculine to be from Anna. Looks more like something Mr Carson would write." He pried his finger beneath the flap of paper that kept it sealed, and gently broke the seal. Vera snorted and left him to reading his letter. John frowned, and started to read aloud to himself.

"Dear Mr Bates,

"I don't know whether I should be happy, sorry, angry or sad, writing this letter to you, after what you did to Anna, leaving her here to nurse her broken heart back to its normal, tough self – I doubt she'll ever be the same, not after your leaving here rather quickly and ceremoniously – in a bad light – but there was something she said to me this evening, that I wondered if you knew about. It's been in my head all evening – as I write this letter, I am the only one sat in the servants' hall at this ungodly hour."

"So it's definitely not from your floozy?"

John barely restrained a snarl. "Don't call Anna a floozy. Don't even talk about her. I will not have you tarnishing her name and reputation."

Vera shrugged, and left the room once more, to begin cooking dinner – not that he would be able to stomach it. Vera's cooking paled in comparison to Mrs Patmore's. He continued to read.

"I'm not sure whether to be amused or sympathetic when I lament over the fact that Anna has gone and stolen your pillowcase from your room, just so she can have that little piece of you with her when she cries herself to sleep each night. I know, and she knows, that in the end, your scent will fade away from the case and be replaced with her own, but she misses you terribly, and I don't blame her – you stuck up for me when no one else would. And now it seems that I repaying the favour in kind. I may not like you for what you did to her, and I may never forgive you for it, either, but I know that you should know that if you can come back eventually – despite what that witch of a wife tells you – know that I'll stick up for you against the others. Even Mrs Hughes refuses to talk about you at dinner, knowing how it will bring Anna to tears, even in front of everyone there.

"I guess, I'm writing because I want to tell you what Anna told me this evening. What she said to me was rather moving, and I think you should know that despite what you've done to her, she still holds you in high regards, still loves you the same as how she's always loved you. What she said was (quote unquote), "To me, he is more than just a valet, and more than just a man with an injury that should render him unemployable." She went on to say, "Without him here, I just feel so lost, so alone, like I've lost my only lantern in the ever surrounding darkness, and I wish to find my way out of this trouble – but to do that, I need him here. But he's gone." She started to cry at that point; panic-stricken, I did the only thing I knew would work with a crying woman – I pulled her into my embrace, and let her cry herself hoarse. She lamented to me, "He's gone, William, and he'll probably never come back! How am I supposed to continue with my broken heart?!"

"Basically, I suppose I'm wondering – how do you react to this statement, and how do you think I should respond to it? It seems shocking that I'm asking you for advice, being as I'm still uncertain as to how I should treat you, but I need to know more about handling women. Because it's not just Anna that has me in a tither – it's Daisy, and I think you know that I like her as more than just a friend; I wouldn't go as far as to say I love her, but I feel that I'm close to that statement. If you can enlighten me as to how to go about things here, then that would be entirely respected, and I will gain all respect for you once more. Besides, you're more experienced in the matter of women than I am – I'm sure you can shed some useful advice!"

John chuckled – he may know more than the writer of the letter did, but he wouldn't go as far as to say the advice was useful. The only thing he could possibly impart here was don't be an idiot and marry the wrong woman. That much was truth.

"Yours sincerely,

"William Mason."

His eyes widened as he read the writer's name. _William? But, how did he– _He shook his head in confusion. Scratch that thought.

A shrill yelp from the kitchen drew his attention, but John made no attempt to go and help his witch of a wife. She poked her head around the doorframe, smiling sweetly at him, but he wasn't to buoyed. "Johnny? Come and help me with dinner – please?"

He firmly shook his head.

* * *

Just like William had – as stated in his letter – long after Vera had gone to sleep in his mother's old room and he had pretended to fall asleep on the sofa once more, John snuck into the kitchen without his cane, to risk making any noise, and sat down at the desk in the corner of the room, drawing a piece of paper and a pen from the drawers. He swallowed, and put pen to paper. He started to write.

_Dear William,_

_I know how much you may want to despise me, to hate me for breaking Anna's heart, but you must know that I had no choice. It was either breaking Downton's admirable status and have it crushed by a rumour of which I am not sure of, or breaking Anna's heart – and mine – in the process of saving it. If his Lordship still despises me for leaving as I did, tell him I meant to save the reputation of Downton – and Lady Mary – and not hurt his eldest daughter by allowing the scandal to go to the papers. Tell him I'm sorry, and that I wish for him and I to get along if I can ever come back to Downton (of which I sorely hope, Vera's cooking pales in comparison to Mrs Patmore's, and I'm sure that, before long, I'll eat something of which Vera has purposefully meddled with, which is exactly what she wants)._

_You wish to know more about women? Well, I can impart only one piece of useful advice – don't be an idiot who fools himself that he's in love with the girl he is trying to pursue, and make sure you grab the right woman. Of course, I'm sure Daisy and you would go together splendidly, much like Anna and I do – did. I hope that, even after this, she can forgive me. I really want her to. Because I do love Anna Smith, I really do – if I didn't, why would I ask her to marry me? I hope you and I can be friends once more, William. I really hope so. Don't judge an old fool who always puts others before himself (in most circumstances)._

_You stated that Anna said that I was more than just a valet to her, more than just a man with an injury that should – theoretically – render me unemployable. That, without me to hold her, love her and support her, she has lost her lantern in the darkness around her. That… that touches me. It really does. But I can't send a letter to Anna, ever, because Vera forbade it, evil witch. I want to be there for her, but if I ever return to Downton, Vera will send the rumour about Mr Kemal Pamuk's true death-place to the papers – allegedly, he died in Lady Mary's bed, and I don't want a scandal like that to appear in the papers. It would be entirely my fault if it did, and I'm sure his Lordship would hate me even more than he does now._

_I wish – I stress – for you to understand that, whilst I may not want to be here, that I would rather be at Downton, slaving away and being with every single one of you (yes, even Thomas and Ms O'Brien), I have to be here, to keep Downton's reputation safe and intact. But I've had enough of the farce that is my marriage, and I'm planning to move out and get a job somewhere up in York, but nowhere near Downton, just to keep to my end of the agreement Vera and I have made – if I don't run straight back to Downton, she won't sell the scandal to the papers and she'll agree to the divorce. I plan to get a job in somewhere like Ripon, perhaps in a pub, and I hope to be able to make visits to the village whenever I can, on Anna's half-days off. You must always write me, tell me how she's faring, despite the fact that I can never go back to Downton properly until I am divorced and free to marry Anna. And, for Heaven's sake, I hope you haven't joined the war effort – Anna needs someone to keep her company during these trying times, if Mrs Hughes refuses to talk about me at all, like you mentioned in your letter. I hope you'll keep in touch, William – tell everyone (including Anna) that I miss them – heck, tell even Thomas and Ms O'Brien I miss their squabbling and constant plots to get rid of me, I want to come back to Downton that much!_

_Yours sincerely,_

_John Bates._

* * *

"A letter for you, William. You might as well read it before you go back to the front with Mr Matthew tomorrow."

William looked up from his breakfast, half a rasher of bacon clutched in his teeth as he ripped the envelope open and withdrew the letter from within. At first, he thought it was from his father, but when he got a few words through the first paragraph he grinned broadly and whooped around his bacon. Mrs Hughes started to scold him, but then he hushed her with a finger and alerted everyone in the room, including Anna, who had just come in and sat on his left side, his right having been taken by Branson earlier that morning.

"Listen to this, everyone!" He cleared his throat, and began to read the letter aloud.

"Dear William,

"I know how much you may want to despise me, to hate me for breaking Anna's heart, but you must know that I had no choice. It was either breaking Downton's admirable status and have it crushed by a rumour of which I am not sure of, or breaking Anna's heart – and mine – in the process of saving it. If his Lordship still despises me for leaving as I did, tell him I meant to save the reputation of Downton – and Lady Mary – and not hurt his eldest daughter by allowing the scandal to go to the papers. Tell him I'm sorry, and that I wish for him and I to get along if I can ever come back to Downton (of which I sorely hope, Vera's cooking pales in comparison to Mrs Patmore's, and I'm sure that, before long, I'll eat something of which Vera has purposefully meddled with, which is exactly what she wants)."

Mrs Patmore swelled with pride at the praise Bates had obviously given her about her cooking. Anna had tears in her eyes as William continued to read, upset that he hadn't written to her but pleased that he had at least written to someone, even if it was William.

"You wish to know more about women? Well, I can impart only one piece of useful advice – don't be an idiot who fools himself that he's in love with the girl he is trying to pursue, and make sure you grab the right woman. Of course, I'm sure Daisy and you would go together splendidly, much like Anna and I do – did. I hope that, even after this, she can forgive me. I really want her to. Because I do love Anna Smith, I really do – if I didn't, why would I ask her to marry me? I hope you and I can be friends once more, William. I really hope so. Don't judge an old fool who always puts others before himself (in most circumstances)."

Anna felt her heart swell with her love for the valet, and William placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder, squeezing it and giving her confidence. He smiled at her, and turned back to his letter.

"You stated that Anna said that I was more than just a valet to her, more than just a man with an injury that should – theoretically – render me unemployable. That, without me to hold her, love her and support her, she has lost her lantern in the darkness around her. That… that touches me. It really does. But I can't send a letter to Anna, ever, because Vera forbade it, evil witch." Ethel made a sound of disapproval, but kept her views about Vera to herself, as William continued on despite her slight interruption. "I want to be there for her, but if I ever return to Downton, Vera will send the rumour about Mr Kemal Pamuk's true death-place to the papers – allegedly, he died in Lady Mary's bed, and I don't want a scandal like that to appear in the papers. It would be entirely my fault if it did, and I'm sure his Lordship would hate me even more than he does now.

"I wish – I stress – for you to understand that, whilst I may not want to be here, that I would rather be at Downton, slaving away and being with every single one of you (yes, even Thomas and Ms O'Brien), I have to be here, to keep Downton's reputation safe and intact. But I've had enough of the farce that is my marriage, and I'm planning to move out and get a job somewhere up in York, but nowhere near Downton, just to keep to my end of the agreement Vera and I have made – if I don't run straight back to Downton, she won't sell the scandal to the papers and she'll agree to the divorce. I plan to get a job in somewhere like Ripon, perhaps in a pub, and I hope to be able to make visits to the village whenever I can, on Anna's half-days off." Everyone witnessed a tear slip free from Anna's eye, and Ms O'Brien did the rare thing of smiling at the woman in comfort – even she had grown to appreciate the valet, when she put her mind to it. Thomas just snorted at O'Brien's soft-side, created from treating her Ladyship ever since she had been made a lady's maid. "You must always write me, tell me how she's faring, despite the fact that I can never go back to Downton properly until I am divorced and free to marry Anna. And, for Heaven's sake, I hope you haven't joined the war effort – Anna needs someone to keep her company during these trying times, if Mrs Hughes refuses to talk about me at all, like you mentioned in your letter." The mentioned housekeeper flushed bright red as Ethel, Branson and even Mr Carson turned to scowl at her. "I hope you'll keep in touch, William – tell everyone (including Anna) that I miss them – heck, tell even Thomas and Ms O'Brien I miss their squabbling and constant plots to get rid of me, I want to come back to Downton that much!" Everyone laughed at his wording as O'Brien and Thomas flushed bright red, too, and started to stutter that now they realised they'd never wanted to get rid of him, now that they knew he had a tough side to him, because of the Second Anglo-Boer War. William and Branson just rolled their eyes at each other as William read Bates' parting words.

"Yours sincerely,

"John Bates."

William smiled as he pulled away from the letter, and turned to face Anna, pushing the paper into her hands. He smiled more broadly at her, and whispered into her ear, "Keep it. You never know, you might want to read it to yourself, even if it's addressed to me."

**END.**

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**A/N:** So, don't forget to review, and don't forget to be nice! I hope you enjoyed the story!


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